Every Rose Has It's Thorn
by Emolicious Angel
Summary: AU, human. Charles and Erik are roommates. Charles has a very serious addiction, and Erik, a psychiatrists, desperatly wants to help him, but can he help a man who can't help himself. Shlash Erik/Charles. A little dark at points. M for a reason. R&R,


_Hello, this is my first X-Men Fic, so sorry if the characters a bit off, but Ive wanted to write one for a while and see how I go._

**Rating: **

**_Warnings: _**_his story will be a bit graphic, and it's not pretty, but there is some romance going to be in here too. There is a lot of talk about addiction (something which I know nothing about myself, so I apologise if I offend anyone by not describing it correctly) Ths is rated M for a reason. There will be sex, masturbation (probably a fair bit), swearing, and maybe a little violence. _

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

6:30 am.

Erik Lehnsherr slammed his hands on his bedside desk, his fingers searching desperately for his phone which was emitting a loud buzzing noise that penetrated his skull and irritated him to no end. He found the vibrating machine and hit the buttons randomly until the noise stopped, groaning as he pulled his blankets from where they covered his head and blinked at the light shining in through his curtains. _Great, yet another day in the boring life of Erik Lehnsherr. _

7:00 am.

Erik yawned widely as he flipped the bacon pieces in the frying pan, a bitter expression on his face as he dropped the crispy meat onto a plate. He wasn't the cheeriest of people and he knew that, he had a reputation for his short fuse and terrible temper, and he was quite fine with being seen that way. Mostly because it was true, not many people saw Erik Lehnsherr with a smile on his face, and he didn't care if it stayed that way.

The steady glare he is holding on the newspaper in front of him wavers as he hears a door open down the hall, and footsteps moving in his direction. He glanced over the top of his papers and see's exactly what he expected.

"Morning Erik," His very British roommate chirped, walking over to the fridge, his bright blue eyes falling on Erik as he graced the man with a smile.

"Morning Charles," He replied gruffly, his eyes falling back to his paper. Erik had a soft spot for Charles Xavier, a soft spot that could be explained in many different ways, but none of which Erik really wished to voice. Charles was a gentle man, he almost always positive and it wasn't often that he didn't have a smile on his face, always trying to see the best in people and life in general. Pretty much the complete opposite of Erik. "You got in late last night."

Charles glanced at him over the fridge door and shot him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, lost track of time, you know how it is."

No, he really didn't. But he couldn't say that. "Oh it's fine, it doesn't bother me, I was still awake anyway, working on some stuff for work."

"Anything interesting?"

Erik snorted and dropped the paper. "Not really, just got a new patient forced on me that's all. Some criminal who the government seems to think I can fix. Nothing unusual. Don't know why they seem to think I'm some kind of magic man. The kids a lost cause."

Charles shot him a scolding look. "Erik don't say that, perhaps he just needs a bit of help, and you are perfectly qualified to give it to him. "

"He burned down his house Charles."

"Oh that's not so bad Erik…"

"While his mother and sisters were inside asleep."

Charles frowned slightly. "Well… when you say it like that it does sound a bit worse doesn't it."

"Sure," Erik snorted, spearing a piece of bacon with his fork. "It just sounds worse."

7:30

Charles is getting fidgety already, a little earlier in the day than usual. Erik stands in the kitchen pretending to watch the news on the TV, but really watching Charles, who is sitting on the couch, one foot was bouncing up and down slightly, his fingers tapping on the arm of the couch, his eyes darting to his bedroom door every few seconds.

"Are you okay Charles?" Erik asks from his spot leaning against the wall, his fingers slowly doing up the buttons on his shirt. He asks Charles the same question every day, though at all different times of the day.

Charles sends him a fake smile, and even though there is the usual anxiousness behind those blue eyes Erik still can't help but think about just attractive the Brit is. "Oh yes I'm fine." He answers. _Oh what a lie that is. He always lies. _

"Okay, just let me know if you need anything."

Charles laughs nervously and stands up, his fingers twisting slightly in the hem of his shirt. "Really Erik, I'm fine, I'm still having trouble sleeping that's all." He chuckled. "I don't need a psychiatrist. Keep that for the people who really need your help. Not your tired roommate." He sent Charles a smile and walked back over to the table, where he'd left his glass of juice.

Erik resisted the urge to sigh. He was one of the best at his job, he saw things that other people didn't see, being a psychiatrist was only a part of his job, he noticed things normal people couldn't, he understood people, could figure out their problems before even they themselves knew they had one, and he knew exactly what Charles' problem was. He just wished he could do something about it.

"I guess you'll be off soon. I'm going to go lay down before I have to head off to work." Same thing as every other morning, he would wander back to his bedroom to _lie down. _

He sighed quietly. "Alright Charles, I'll see you when I get home." And with one last smile Charles was down the hall, his bedroom door closed behind him.

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><p>Erik had been Charles' roommate for almost a year now, and from what he'd been told, he'd lasted much longer than of Charles' other roommates did. He still remembered the day he'd come to look at the apartment. He'd just transferred and had been looking for somewhere nice, but not too expensive to live. At first he'd considered staying in an apartment of his own, but in the end he decided to look at shared apartments too.<p>

And then was when he met Charles Xavier. Charles was a bit younger than him, 25, and already graduated from studying Genetics at College. He lived alone in a two bedroom apartment, and despite his impressive degree he was only working in a coffee shop. Charles owned the apartment himself, Erik had learned, as he was quite wealthy, but he wanted to rent out the spare room, as his funds weren't limitless, and he didn't want to waste them if he didn't need to.

He'd admitted to Erik that he had trouble keeping roommates. He was out very late at night, he'd told Erik, often returning in the middle of the night or leaving at just as inappropriate times, and people didn't like that. Erik had decided he didn't mind and had happily agreed to take the room. Charles really was a pleasant man, he was funny, always nice, and though Charles wouldn't admit it at first, extremely attractive.

Charles, true to his word, was out at all ours, hardly slept at night, always seemed tired, and Erik went through many theories of what it could be. Drug addiction, alcohol problems, insecurities that led to partying all night to get attention. It took a few before Erik finally figured out exactly what it was that was wrong with Charles, and it had been by accident to. At the time he was stuck on his attention seeking theory.

It was a Friday night, and Erik was glaring at the TV screen, annoyed by whatever was on and not wanting to put in the effort to change the channel. Charles was usually out by this time on a Friday, so Erik had been overly surprised when the smaller man joined him on the couch, looking a little less happy than he usually was as he folded his legs beneath him and leaned against the arm of the couch.

"_Not going out tonight Charles?" _He'd asked, surprise in his voice.

_No not tonight I'm afraid." _And that was all that had been said on the subject. Erik was watching some cheesy romance flick, he couldn't remember what it was called now, but it was the movie that finally helped him figure out the mystery that was Charles Xavier. It was about 2 thirds of the way through the film and there was a very intimate sex scene playing. The two main characters he practically torn each other's clothes off and were promptly going at it on the man's bed, him taking her from behind.

Charles wasn't paying much attention to the film, it was Charles' strangled noise of annoyance that had caught his attention. He peered sideways, at his roommate and saw he was tense, fingers twisted in the fabric of his pants, biting his bottom lip. Charles had shifted uncomfortably, squeezing his eyes shut, but after only a few more seconds of the films noises he jumped to his feet. "I'm going to bed." He'd said, desperation and a little bit of anger in his voice. "I'm not well."

And as he'd rushed off it had finally occurred to him what he'd been trying to figure out for months. Charles was not a drug addict, now was he addicted to alcohol or attention.

Charles Xavier was a sex addict.

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><p>6:45pm<p>

Erik allowed the door the bang a little against the wall as he opened it, walking through tiredly. Erik himself was usually much more graceful than this, and didn't at all enjoy possibly damaging the apartment where he lived, but he did it for Charles' sake, so the other man would know he was home. He heard a few small bangs from down the hall and dropped his bag on the table, pulling a beer out of the fridge.

Charles addiction was a very difficult one, as Erik had come to learn. He wasn't addicted to just sex, but just to the pleasure itself. When he was out all night it was usually because he was trying to pick up women, and sometimes men to sleep with. And Erik also knew that a lot of the time Charles spent in his room was time he spent masturbating. He didn't care to count how many times a day Charles would wander off to his room for no apparent reason. It wasn't Charles' fault, and he didn't know Erik knew, so he seemed to do his best with keeping it a secret.

Had Erik been anyone else Charles might have succeeded. Unfortunately he wasn't somebody else, and all he could do was look sadly at Charles' door when he didn't emerge straight away, and pretend he didn't know exactly what the brunette was doing on the other side of the door. If only he would just ask for help, because Erik had so much to give.

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><p>CPOV<p>

Charles groaned quietly to himself, a mix of pleasure and shame. He was on his bed, reclining against the headboard his clothes discarded and his laptop resting on his legs, one of his many video's playing on the screen. He hadn't meant to get distracted like this honestly. He'd just wanted to check his emails and his work timetable, when he knew was being changed sometime this week. He'd promised himself he wouldn't allow himself to get distracted. The kitchen needed to be cleaned; he needed to get stuff out for dinner before Erik got home.

But he just couldn't help himself.

"God, you're pathetic." He cursed himself as he undressed, pressing play on one the many dirty video's he'd downloaded and saved onto his computer. "You already did this a few hours ago, why can't you just control yourself." He felt truly disgusted with himself as he sat down and began stroking his already hard cock, disappointed by the pleasure he felt as he watched the screen.

This happened to himself every day. He promised himself he wouldn't do it, that he'd cut back and maybe he'd be able to control himself better, wouldn't have to go out and sleep with random strangers almost every night just to get the fix he craved so desperately. When he heard the front door open he was pumping himself furiously, moans escaping his lips. He bit his lip to shut himself up and shifted, causing his laptop and a few books to slide from the bed.

"Fuck, stop… just stop." He breathed desperately, though his hand kept moving, his hips thrusting up into the friction, his body desperate for release, and no matter how much he begged himself he knew he wouldn't stop. He cheeks were hot with shame. He was ashamed of himself, Erik was out in the kitchen, and here he was, naked on his bed, touching himself once again.

His movements became desperate as he felt himself growing closer, precum leaking out of the tip of his aching length, and the spread it over himself in one quick movement, using it as extra lubrication and kept going, his breathing hard and uneven but otherwise silent. He was an expert at staying quiet now. He bucked up into his hand as he suddenly hit his orgasm, hot seed spilling out onto his hand and stomach. He stroked himself a few more times, and forced himself to pull his hand away and clean himself up.

"You don't deserve anything. This is why you can't have a good job or a relationship or people who care about you."

He glanced in the mirror as he got dressed, and there was sadness in his eyes that made him physically ill to see. "You need help."

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><p><em>I'm sorry for doing that to Charles, but I feel it makes the story more emotional if it's charles with the problem for once. I'm no expert on sex addiction, but it's a very serious matter, and if I got anything wrong I'm sorry, but for the purposes of this story, this is how Charles' addiction works, and he is completely ashamed with himself for it. <em>

_.  
>This chapter is a bit short, and there isn't a lot in it, but I just wanted to see how many people would actualy be interested in me continuing this. <em>

_Review with any thoughts or suggestions. _


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